Laura Atkins calls herself a magpie; on nature walks, she looks out for sea glass, rocks, and anything else that catches her fancy. The habit has served her well. She’s created art out of what she’s found; her experiences also helped inspire her picture book Bringing the Beach Home, illustrated by Evgenia Penman (The Collective Book Studio, July 1).

The story follows Rowan, a child of divorce who’s grown frustrated by the constant shuttling back and forth between Mom’s and Dad’s homes. So Dad proposes a trip to the seaside. Rowan initially finds the beach overwhelming but eventually takes to it, and when it’s time to leave, Rowan and Dad gather shells, pebbles, and sticks. Back at Dad’s place, the two make a wind chime that’s both a blissful reminder of the beach and a tangible example of the power of art.

The story has been years in the making. Between 2014 and 2016, Atkins went in search of a muse while working on her MFA—and found one in nature. “I gave myself permission to go to the beach almost once a week,” Atkins tells Kirkus via Zoom. She spent most of her time in Berkeley, California, where she now lives, and “ended up volunteering, doing habitat restoration at Muir Beach,” in Marin County.

“We were planting native plants and pulling nonnative plants,” she says. “We were helping to protect willow trees that, now, when I walk down the boardwalk, are just everywhere.…The ecosystem has thrived.” So has Atkins’ writing. “I was really experiencing that sense of connection to nature and creativity.”

The seaside has long been a constant in Atkins’ life. Growing up in Massachusetts and California, she was familiar with beaches on both the East and West Coasts. “The East Coast beaches are warmer, with big waves. It was a little scary getting stuck in the waves,” she recalls. “I think the West Coast beaches are really where my heart is, and Muir Beach is where I did a lot of creative thinking.” But the inspiration for the seashore in her story was Tennessee Valley Beach, also in Marin County. “You have to hike to get there, about a mile and a half.…The act of walking and thinking helped with my flow.”

Atkins based Rowan’s father on her own dad. The character in the book resembles him physically, and the red van in the story is similar to one he had when she was young. “My dad was absolutely a nature adventure guy.…He was kind of like a big kid himself.” Atkins notes that he took the family on long trips through nature, including a monthlong trek through the Sierras when she was still in diapers.

She remembers her father creating a wind chime out of objects collected at the beach—a memory that serves as the core of her narrative. “I thought it was magic that he could do that,” she says.

Rowan’s father differs from her own in a few key ways, however. “My dad probably wasn’t as tuned in as this dad. He liked to have fun, but emotionally, I’m not sure I felt quite as seen as I wanted Rowan to feel.” Rowan’s father gives his child the space to explore but remains a steady presence throughout; when the waves crash onto Rowan’s pants, Dad is there with a fresh pair of shorts, and when the weather turns cold, he gently covers Rowan in sand. “I think I was reparenting myself a little bit in creating the book,” Atkins says.

After her father’s death two years ago, Atkins began reshaping the narrative to honor him. “And that ended up shifting [the story more to] the beach,” she says, “and it brought in the [idea] of going from one parent’s house to another, which wasn’t originally there.”

Like Rowan’s mother and father, Atkins’ parents divorced when she was young, and she split her time between Boston and Berkeley. “I would spend a year with one parent and a year with the other. So I experienced, from a pretty young age, the pretty huge upheaval of having to say goodbye to a parent.” 

She adds, “I ended up envisioning Rowan as more of a neurodiverse kid.” Atkins’ son is neurodiverse, too, and had strong sensory reactions to the beach, both positive and negative. Upon arriving, he was always filled with excitement, but by the end of the visit, he would be covered in sand—and filled with frustration. Rowan, on the other hand, starts off intimidated by the crashing waves and annoyed by the hot sand but concludes the trip on a happier note. “I kind of flipped that,” Atkins explains.

Atkins also intentionally avoided using pronouns for Rowan. She initially wrote her protagonist as female—because the story “was really inspired by me”—but that decision evolved over time. She has close family members who are genderqueer, and she wanted to write a story that was “subtly inclusive.” She hopes that all kids, regardless of their gender identity, will see themselves in her work. Ultimately, the focus is on Rowan’s artistic journey. “It’s not a book about gender or neurodiversity or even divorce. Divorce is in the book, but it’s not the central story.”

The book also offered the author the opportunity to reshape her own identity. As a writer and editor, she’s worked in creative fields for a long time, but she hasn’t always thought of herself as a visual artist. “I was a kid who loved art. I loved writing. I loved all of it, but I was a rule-following kid who wanted to get it right. And somehow I got the message that I was not a good creative or visual artist; I was a word person. I put myself into that box.” 

The Covid-19 lockdowns in 2020 gave Atkins the freedom to break out of that box. “When we were all trapped in our own little worlds, I found a beach in Richmond [California], not far from where I am, that was covered in sea glass.” She gathered it and sorted it into basins by color. “My dad collected pebbles, and he had a rock polisher, so it’s definitely a family tradition.”

Atkins began creating suncatchers, ornaments made from glass and hung near windows to reflect sunlight. “I started taking old wine bottles and painting on them. I got so excited, being out in the world and seeing stuff that would inspire me. I found a kid-size metal bed frame that was missing the legs, and I took it back and created a sculpture in my garden.”

The act of creation was empowering. She was able to “let go of that critical voice,” she says. “This book is in some ways my mission statement—not just for kids, but for all of us.”

Atkins adds, “Creativity is our birthright. We all come into the world knowing who we are, and then the world happens to us.” Kids are often inundated with messages telling them to tamp themselves down, but she hopes the book will spur young people to embark on their own creative journeys. “What is it that can help you feel calm and tune in? That’s when you’re likely to hear your inner voice, your own thoughts and feelings.”

Mahnaz Dar is a young readers’ editor.